Accidental
by Suzie's Q
Summary: James didn't mean to break into her house. It was an accident. AU.


This was a prompt from tumblr, so I don't own that, and I still don't own Harry Potter.

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**Accidental**  
Summary: James didn't mean to break into her house. It was an accident.  
Pairing: J/L  
Word Count: 1,163  
Rating: K+

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Lily Evans was having the perfect morning. For the first time in weeks, she had finished her work and gone to bed at a reasonable hour, and it had done her good. She felt refreshed, and with the weight of her college assignments finally lifted from her shoulders, she felt lighter, and ready to focus on her impending exams.

She had a lovely lie-in, as the sun spilled over her strategically placed bed and covering her blankets in warmth.

Her morning was going perfectly, cuddled up in bed with her two warm cats. Gina, her roommate, had already gone home for the summer, and Lily loved the peaceful house.

Except that her peaceful house was not to stay peaceful for long.

—

James Potter woke to screaming. He groaned, rolling over and pressing his face into the pillow further - it did smell a bit… different - before realizing that that was a girl screaming. His head was pounding, stomach twisting. He lifted his head to look around for something, in case he needed to throw up, and was promptly hit in the face with a pillow.

"What - are - you - _doing - in - my - house?" _The girl shrieked, punctuating each word with another hit to his already delicate face.

Desperate to bring the attack on his head to an end so that he could die from his hangover in peace, James grabbed the pillow. The girl was very clearly caught off guard, stumbling and tripping over the coffee table. She landed flat out on her stomach on the floor, right beside the couch so that, if he chose to roll off the couch, he would have landed right on top of her.

She swore and raised a finger to her bleeding lip - he'd heard a thud - and lifted her head.

"Oh, hey, I know you!" James exclaimed. He was met with the most evil death glare he could ever fabricate in his imagination. "You've got Biology with my friend Remus."

Still glowering at him with the fury of a thousand burning suns, or something like that, James imagined, since her face _had_ gone rather red, she stood up, looking around for another potential weapon.

"You _broke into my house, and you made me bleed," _she said. She looked a little perplexed. James didn't blame her. It probably wasn't a situation she readily imagined herself in. "Mind telling me _what you're still doing here?" _

He flinched away from her raised voice. She sounded very much ticked off by what he'd already done, so he figured that puking all over her floor would probably only add _more _insult to injury.

"Technically, the table did that," he mumbled, getting to his feet. He scratched his chest idly, taking a hasty step back from her as she took a step forward. She was probably going to attack him. "Listen, my friend lives in the next house and I was really drunk, I just got confused."

As James watched the girl, he could see on her face as her emotions became more and more mingled and confused. She was _very obviously furious _and that was enough to keep James backing up with tiny steps. But she was also clearly confused, and scared, and James thought she looked like she was about to faint.

"Are you insane?" she hissed, gaping at him.

"Er, no," he said, trying for a grin to perhaps cut through all that tension in the air. "Generally I go by James." At that, he realized that she had moving until she reached the vase standing on the coffee table, and was now gripping it in her hand, a look of maddened rage in her eyes.

He held up his hands, so at least they'd be near his face if she decided to send the piece of porcelain flying. "Listen, I'm a _student here, _I just got confused. My mate Remus lives next door," he prompted, hoping some sign of recognition would spare him his valuable face.

To his relief, the vase lowered slightly. "Oh, I know you," she grumbled. He considered that the safety of his face was not yet entirely secure, judging by her expression. "You sneak into our lectures."

"Yeah, yeah, I do," he grinned.

The girl stared at him for a few seconds, undecided between hitting him and maybe just yelling some more.

"Well," she blurted out after a few seconds, sounding expectant.

"Well, what?"

"Get out!" She pointed towards the door, and the death glare was back.

"Right, right," James said hurriedly. He felt his cheeks warm as he spotted his jeans lying on the floor. The girl seemed to notice at the same time, because she went bright red and started mumbling to herself.

"This cannot be happening, this can_not _be happening …"

"I'm going, I'm going," James mumbled, bright red as he gathered up his clothes. The colour of his face went even deeper, if that was possible, when he noticed his shirt missing.

"Er- have you seen … t-shirt? Red? Looks like it's built for a strapping young gentleman."

The look she shot him was pure venom as she cast a glance around the floor. A cat went streaking between his feet, along with a blur of red.

"Oh, for the love of - Rachmaninoff!" she called after the wretched animal. Now she looked nothing short of alarmed, and clearly very anxious to get this strange, half-dressed boy out of her house. "Come b- Bloody hell, that cat never does what it's told…"

He noted the worry in her voice, but just raised one eyebrow. "Rachmaninoff?" he echoed, smirking at her.

"It's a composer," she shot back, scowling. "I wouldn't expect you to know that."

"Looked like a cat to me," James said lightly. Her hands clenched in frustration, and if James had to guess, he would wager that she was imagining those hands wrapping around his neck as she let out an angry groan.

"Shut up," she snapped. "Just - follow the cat."

"Right you are, Captain -" he paused, and then grinned. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"You don't need it," she said, stalking past him. She started calling for the cat, despair evident in her voice, and James didn't suspect she had much hope that he would ever see his red t-shirt again.

"I'm not letting him leave here without a shirt…" she was grumbling to herself. "The batty old ladies talk about me enough already… Even if I have to send him out of here in a bathrobe…. But I do love that bathrobe…. Where is that bloody cat…"

"God, I hate cats," he said conversationally, following her into the next room, an immaculately kept kitchen. He wondered if it would be going too far to ask her for a cup of coffee. She turned and narrowed her eyes at him, hands placed on her hips.

"You and I are going to have a very big problem."

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Thanks for reading.


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